


great expectations

by tiffanyachings



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, One Shot, supportive husband dwight enys, written before s4 but it still sorta works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 03:42:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14761943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiffanyachings/pseuds/tiffanyachings
Summary: Caroline isn't too thrilled at the prospect of motherhood.





	great expectations

**Author's Note:**

> (probably minor spoilers for 4x01, but the promotion material for s4 basically gives it away anyway)  
> title nicked straight from Dickens, who will hopefully forgive me.

"You're not pleased," Dwight says carefully and sits down on the bed to unbutton his waistcoat. There's an audible period at the end of the sentence, but somehow it still comes out sounding like a question. It's the way it leaves an invisible, hollow space that ought to be filled by an answer. 

  
What he expects is a reply along the lines of ‘What brings you to that diagnosis, Dr Enys?' or 'How very observant of you!', and so when Caroline holds in her attempt to fight a rather stubborn curl of hair with her brush, leans forward on her elbows, and answers "I don't rightly know", he knows something serious must be amiss.

  
"No," she says with sudden conviction and bangs the brush on her dressing table. "It's quite silly of me and I shall be over it in no time. All I need is some time to..." She trails off, staring into her mirror image's bright blue eyes.

  
"Is that why you waited so long to tell me?", Dwight says quietly, his eyes kept on the breeches he is folding.

  
The candlelight gives her hair a golden gleam and sends flickering shadows about her face as Caroline turns around in her chair, her face slightly coloured. "I'm sorry for that. You must know that. But when you first questioned me about my symptoms I couldn't – I've always known it was bound to happen someday, of course, and...and I'm glad - no, more than glad, I'm _happy_ and immensely grateful it's yours and not some wet, conceited peacock’s like Unwin, but now that _some_ day is no longer _any_ day..." She falters, helplessly gesturing at thin air, then picks up the brush again and determinedly rededicates herself to taming the wayward curl.

  
"Caroline," Dwight says gently and she feels an urge to close her eyes, press her lips together and wonder if he knows what it does to her when he calls her name like this, softly and soothing and with so much love. "Come to bed."

  
Leaving his neatly folded clothes on a chair, he crawls under the covers, gesturing at the space next to him. The hesitation on her face in the mirror gives way to a faint smile at the sight of his inviting arms, and without much further ado, Caroline strives off her dressing gown, joins him in bed and rests her head against his chest, a comfortably familiar weight. Out of the corner of his eye, Dwight can see her long fingers kneading the thick fabric of their blanket. He draws his arms around her waist, pulling her a little closer, and runs his fingers through the soft, more than thoroughly brushed hair, waiting for her to speak.

  
"Demelza and Elizabeth," she finally begins. "And Ruth. Verity." Once begun, the words spill out. "They all think babies delightful little creatures, don't they? They coddle them and seem overjoyed to feed their greedy little mouths and wash off their permanent stickiness, they don't seem to mind it a bit... You see, they're _meant_ to be mothers. It comes natural to them, as if it's in their blood. It...it fills out their lives. I don't have the character.”

  
“Nonsen-,” Dwight tries to protest, but is stopped short by a wave of his wife’s hand.

  
“No," she says fiercely, "let me finish. I - They're such _tedious,_ dull companions – babies, I mean, not my dear friends – lying in their crib all day, but not even in silence - how I wish they would! - no, always crying for something, expecting you to drop your great-grandmother’s china and hasten to their side without delay…” Caroline’s exasperated expression fades and gives way to something almost akin to disappointment, and she puts her own hand over Dwight’s that is loosely resting on her still rather flat abdomen. “And God knows that is what this little fellow deserves as well, and...and I'm afeared I won't have it in me when the time comes." Caroline lets out a short, deep exhale, almost as if to punctuate her confession, and he catches her flicking him an uneasy glance before quickly averting her eyes again.

  
Dwight looks down at her long, delicate hands. They are shaking slightly; if with agitation or anxiousness, he can’t tell. It’s a rare state for her to be in, and he carefully grasps for the right words - for careful they must be chosen, it’s a sensitive matter - but grasps for them just a beat too long.

  
"I don't suppose you happen to know a secret tincture to make them outgrow infancy faster?" Caroline adds coyly and lifts her head off his chest to flash him a smile that is just a tad too brilliant. "I dare say I'd be much kindlier with a three-year old."

  
Dwight gives a low laugh at that. Leave it to Caroline to always find a way to break the tension. "They grow up fast enough,” he says, mentally thanking her for coming up with an opening to this conversation herself. “Or so I've been told," he adds truthfully and, with a grin, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. She smiles weakly, and Dwight’s face grows serious again, his arms around her waist tightening. "You'll do marvellous.”

  
Caroline sighs and lets her head fall back onto his chest. “Dwight, I don’t need you to – “  
  
“…give you false reassurance? I’m not. You mustn’t forget, I’m your physician as well as your husband, and as such I can promise you I've attended many different households and seen many different mothers very unlike in character, and who is to judge what is the right one? I certainly cannot. But as far as I have observed, most of them do well in their own way. And so will you. Even if our delightful creature might not always seem that delightful. But trust me, my love, even Demelza’s patience was running thin when Clowance had the croup.”

  
“Is that meant to reassure me?”

  
"What I am trying to convey is that no one is particularly pleased to have one's tea interrupted by a crying infant, unless the company is extraordinarily dull or the biscuits exceptionally soggy. You'd not be human to dislike the thought of that. But I trust - I hope - they make it up to you.” Dwight smiles wistfully. “Again, this might be the physician speaking, but I do believe there is something extraordinary about creating life and watching it grow and prosper instead of seeing it fade away, like I so often do.”

  
For once, no counterargument comes from Caroline and when Dwight looks down, he finds her listening in silence. It’s a good sign, if any. “You know, children can be a little like Horace,” he carries on, the picture of his wife cooing over the spoiled little pug suddenly vivid on his mind. “Sometimes, he simply refuses to stop yapping, no matter how desperately you attempt to bribe him with sweetmeats – which, by the way, doesn’t become him at all, you’ll have to find a healthier treat - and you exasperate because you cannot for the world figure out what he wants, but it doesn’t matter - you love him all the same, because, on other days, he might curl up on your lap after a bad day or master a trick you had been teaching for weeks, and above all, perhaps, because he is _yours_. So, you see, in a way you have more experience caring for a small living thing than many other new mothers already."

  
With a tired but appreciative half-smile, Caroline looks up at him. Her fingers are absentmindedly tracing the seam of his shirt and she pauses before she speaks.  
“And yet – you cannot pretend it’s the same responsibility, spoiling my dear dog and caring for a child. It’s a tiny human being! If you’re not careful and do not give it the attention it demands at every hour, it’ll grow into a boorish, irritating nightmare like my cousin Louisa.” She pushes herself up to look him in the eyes with sudden force, sending her hair flying about in tangles. "And I can't help it! I'd rather race you across the dunes than sit here quietly and nurse a tiny brat whose only reward will be to wail some more and rob me of my sleep and any other enjoyment!" A sharp breath of frustration escapes her, then, her mind evidently catching up with her tongue, she lowers her eyes and slowly lies back down next to him. "Forgive me, you must think me most insolent for this talk.”

  
"It's alright."

  
Caroline’s hand finds his and she carefully entwines their fingers, looking at them long and solemnly. For a moment, she looks like she wants to say something more, then, with a little, final-sounding huff, she averts her gaze and runs her free hand over the wrinkles in the sheets, almost as if trying to smooth over the ripples of her sudden outburst. "Well, now you know, my dear. I'm most dreadfully sorry for it, and I wish it wasn't so, but I don't believe I can do this."

  
Dwight shifts on his side, finds her eyes. “You could do anything, Caroline.” The sincerity in his voice makes her swallow hard and only her enormous amounts of willpower allow her to hold his gaze. “Apart from playing the harp,” he adds thoughtfully, “but we shall engage a music teacher, should that ever become an issue.”

  
"This is no matter for teasing,” she admonishes him, but her reproach is somewhat undermined by the obvious effort it takes her to suppress a smile. “Having my life interrupted day and night by this little fiend…I fear it’ll only lead to resentment.”

  
“Didn’t notice you resenting me too much for keeping you up nearly every night for months on end after I returned from Quimper.”

  
Caroline crinkles her nose and rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch into a smile for a moment. “That was different. And I do recall saying no teasing!” Dwight laughs, and she rolls around to prop herself up on her elbows, head in her hands, brow furrowed as she is working out how to explain to him that - “You must see that, until now, I’ve had an extensive freedom to do as I please - pay calls at whatever time I wish to pay them, go out riding whenever the fancy takes me, etcetera etcetera – and believe me when I say that the past few months have been the happiest of my life, in no small parts due to you. But now, all of that is to change, isn’t it? The bliss, the independence…am I not right in saying that our lives will never be the same? So maybe you might understand why I talk of resentment and look towards the future with less enthusiasm than is expected of me.”

  
Dwight’s eyes are solemn, and he nods slowly, giving her speech some thought. “I shan’t pretend nothing will change, because it will, but it doesn’t have to be for the worse. Of course, I can’t promise our lives will change for the better either, though nothing would make me happier… Maybe they’ll just change. A new chapter, equally excellent in quality, but too dissimilar from the last one to compare them.”

  
He tilts his head, earnestly studying Caroline’s expression and feeling emboldened when he finds a trace of hopefulness in her eyes. "Demelza has dined with us regularly despite her children, has she not? And Mrs Treneglos still finds time to ride? And I distinctly remember dancing with Elizabeth Warleggan at the Assembly Halls two months ago, so she must’ve escaped the clutches of little Valentine’s hands as well. The first few months might be trying, but I promise you, we’ll figure something out.” Dwight squeezes her hand and smiles up at her in the same encouraging manner Caroline knows him to use when reassuring a patient, but she doesn’t mind. In some ways, she _is_ his patient again today, even if of a different sort, bringing her woes before him and hoping he can alleviate them at least a little.

  
And he is.

  
A rush of warm affection wells up in her heart for her husband, her partner in this mad, _terrifying_ endeavour to bring up a child, and without much thought, she brings his hand up to her lips, pressing a swift yet ardent kiss on his knuckles.

  
Dwight’s face grows soft and tender at the gesture, and he reaches for her, pulling her down into his arms again. “You should have seen Mrs Myners’ face when I told her you were with child,” he murmurs into her ear. “I'm sure she'll gladly look after it from time to time. Our dear friends surely won’t mind if you bring it with you either. And you'll always have me."

  
Caroline looks at him quizzically, a small smile creasing her face. "You've always wanted children, haven't you, Dwight?"

  
He laughs and turns away, his face slightly coloured, but he nods.

  
“Well then,” she says, and Dwight knows she means it to sound lightly, but her voice is low and a little too hoarse. There’s a certain jocularity in her expression that seems put on, too, but when she tips her forehead against his, the gesture is as sincere as it could be. “Perhaps I shall reconcile myself with the prospect of motherhood after all.”

  
In a contradiction of emotions, the feeling of something melting inside him is instantly followed by a painful tightening in his chest and Dwight instinctively brings up a hand to caress her cheek. “Maybe you’ll find some enjoyment in it once the child is born. I'd hate to see you wilting away only for my sake.”

  
"I'll do my best." The smile on Caroline’s lips is warm and earnest and Dwight finds that the only answer he can come up with is to move in and meet them with a gentle kiss.

  
“You should sleep, my love,” her murmurs against her cheek, reluctant to pull away, and affectionately nudges her with his nose. “While we're still undisturbed.”  



End file.
